What's In A Name: The Untold Story of Cato
by magicinthemoonlight29
Summary: I knew I would fail my father before I even entered the arena. I knew I had already failed him the moment she looked at me. Equal parts Cato/Glimmer, Cato/Clove. Cato's POV.
1. My Father's Speech

What's In A Name: _The Untold Story of Cato_

**Part I: My Father's Speech**

* * *

"_You're vicious, you got that? You are a vicious, bloodthirsty killing machine. You do not feel anything. You kill. It consumes you. It is all you are. Cast away any moment where you felt regret, guilt, or compassion. Emotions will only weigh you down. You will love no one. Love makes you weak. You will never hear 'I love you,' not from your mother and not from me. You will be famous, people will adore you, but they will never love you. It is not your job to make people love you. It is your job to bring honor to your district. It is your job to kill until you are the last one standing. And should you fail, you will not die as my son. You will die a failure, and I will not remember you. Do I make myself clear, Cato?"_

I knew I would fail him before I even entered the arena. I knew I had already failed him the moment she looked at me.

My father, the tall chiseled man with the cold gray eyes, had given me that speech every night before I went to sleep. I had memorized every word of it. I had even written it down on a piece of paper and kept it hidden under my pillow. Sometimes, I would pull it out and fold it so that only the words "I love you" were visible. I would try to remember the way my father said it in the speech, try to isolate it so that I could hear just the forbidden words. It was the only time I had ever heard the expression, and I clung to it.

I was six years old when he started the tradition. I was six years old and I had never known my father's touch. But that day, the first time he recited his legendary Hunger Games speech, he placed his hands on my shoulders. I still remember it. The sheer power of his grip, the roughness of his skin. The hard, unforgiving look in his eyes. I was captivated. My six-year old self was consumed with a longing to make him proud, a longing that never went away. When he had finished, I stood up on the bed and shouted with all the determination I could muster, "I'll kill them all! I'll kill everyone and I'll be the victor!"

For a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of pride in his eyes. But it disappeared in a second, and he opened his mouth and laughed at me. The laughter cut through my six-year-old skin like a thousand burning hot knives. I never spoke another word about winning. I learned that night that my father didn't want words. Words were of no value to him if they did not translate into actions. So I trained. I trained from the pale light of dawn until the amethyst gloom of dusk. Days off did not exist for me. When I wasn't at the academy, I was wielding weapons in the yard. I was lifting weights. I was running the entire perimeter of the district. I was reading my father's books about weapons and assault tactics. And each night I would be in bed at exactly eleven o'clock, ready to receive the speech that broke my childhood into pieces.

And then the day came for me to volunteer. If I wasn't selected before, I was to volunteer when I reached 16 years of age. "A prime age, 16," my father would always say, "A prime age to kill."

I took my place in the square. I waited patiently, standing tall and still. A boy's name was read. To this day I do not remember it. I have no idea whose place I had taken, whose life I had saved. All I remember is my mouth opening and shouting the words. My tone was strong, commanding, and confident. I knew my father would be pleased.

And then I was on the stage, smiling at the cheering crowd. The girl named Clove, whom I had took notice of many times at the academy, was standing beside me, grinning. Her brown eyes sparkled as she looked over at me. Sparkled with bloodlust. What a pair we would make in the Games.

I would never admit to myself that one of the main reasons Clove stood out to me was that the word "love" was in her name. Even here, even in this vicious, unfeeling district that proudly raised murderers, the forbidden word had somehow crept into this girl's name. It thrilled me, this small realization.

At first, I feared I might feel something more for her than a general appreciation of her skills and her name, but when I looked at her and searched inside myself, I knew I had nothing to worry about. I found the same hollowness in my chest that I had felt ten years ago when my father had laughed in my face at my naïve declaration. She was just the girl with the knives, my future ally. The fact that I would have to kill her to win was of no consequence to me.

But then again, nothing was.

* * *

**End of Part I**


	2. My Biggest Problem

**Part II: My Biggest Problem**

* * *

My mother and brothers came to say goodbye to me first. My mother broke the rules and hugged me, but only for a moment. My brothers didn't say anything. Ace shook my hand, and Faxon just stared at me. Looking back, I feel like his eyes were trying to tell me something. Faxon was only fifteen, but he had always been much more intelligent than me. I remember seeing something urgent in his eyes. As if there was something he desperately wanted me to understand before I boarded the train.

I didn't really figure it out until it was too late.

And then my father came in, his face stone. He looked me straight in the eyes and searched for weakness. There was none to be found, and I knew it. I was good at this game.

"Make me proud, son," he said dispassionately, gifting me with a small nod as he clapped me on the shoulder.

This second time that my father ever touched me would also be the last.

And then I was on the train, on the way to the Capitol. Clove and I sat together the entire trip, discussing the various kill tactics we were looking forward to using. I enjoyed seeing her smile. It was a frightening smile, full of a thirst for blood, but at least it was real. Our mentor Brutus listened to us talk with an amused grin on his face, probably remembering his glory days. I wondered if he suspected that neither of us would be the victor.

We reached the Capitol, got off the train, and time flew by. My prep team didn't need to do much to improve my appearance; my mother had taken great care in assuring I was always properly groomed. I could tell they weren't surprised. They spread a thick, smelly substance on my skin to make it give off a soft golden light, and trimmed my hair. Then I was escorted to a room where my stylist waited.

The gladiator outfit I was fit into pleased me. I looked strong and muscular – someone worth betting on. Someone sponsors would notice.

Clove looked beautiful and incredibly self-assured, as I had expected. Her sparkling eyes took me in as I stepped up beside her in the chariot.

"You ready?" I heard her ask.

I turned to her and gave her a cocky smile. "I was born ready."

I would be lying if I said the tribute parade wasn't exhilarating. It was. When our chariot entered the arena and I looked out at the screaming crowd of Capitol people, something stirred in my chest for the first time in ten years. Some of these people were rooting for me, betting on me. Some of these people would send me expensive weaponry and rich foods because they wanted me, and only me, to win.

But then I noticed that their eyes were no longer trained on me or Clove. As our chariots pulled to a halt, I turned around to see those damn District 12 tributes, literally on fire. The crowd was screaming for them, captivated by the flames. I made a mental note to kill them first.

The President made his speech, and before I knew it I was laying in my large Capitol bed, thinking about what would await me in training tomorrow. I fell asleep smiling, knowing tomorrow would be a good day for me.

It was when I walked into the training arena the next morning that I first saw her. I could not have predicted or prepared for what I felt when her eyes locked on me. The breath flew from my lungs and my heart started beating so rapidly that I worried I might just die right there on the arena sand. Oh, how unhappy my father would be if he saw me now. Clove was giving me a strange sidelong glance and I knew that I had to act fast. It took all of my energy to collect myself and throw the girl a confident nod and cocky grin. She smiled and I swore I saw her blush.

No matter the size or strength of the other tributes, I knew that this girl was going to be my biggest problem. I had seen her on the screen briefly, yes, but that image didn't even begin to compare to seeing her in real life. She was absolutely radiant. Long, flowing blonde hair that glinted with a sort of ethereal light that I was sure must be due to some luxurious product from her district. Perfect porcelain skin, bright sapphire eyes, full lips tilted in a mischievous smile. Not to mention a body that could certainly kill.

What was her name again? I remember them announcing it. Ah, yes. Glimmer. Such a fitting name.

After the trainers made a few announcements, the fun began. Before doing anything, Clove and I went up and introduced ourselves to Glimmer and her fellow District 1 Career, Marvel.

I offered my hand to her and she reached out a perfectly manicured hand to grasp it. Her skin was soft and warm. "I've heard a lot about you, Cato." Her shiny pink lips smiled at me and I was suddenly aware of the fact that my knees were dangerously close to giving out.

"I'm glad to hear it." I kept my eyes trained on her lips, wondering if they tasted as good as they looked, and betting they did.

"It looks like a pretty sorry crop from the districts this year," Marvel commented, smirking at a young boy from District 5 struggling to lift a sword. Glimmer laughed and I felt something stir in my chest at the sound.

"Well, I'm off to play with my knives," Clove said, grinning at me with that sadistic smile I knew so well before heading over to the knife station. Marvel went for the swords, leaving Glimmer and me alone.

"So…" she turned to look at me, "Allies?"

I was captivated by the glint in her eyes. I couldn't help it. But I made myself nod in reply. "I'd planned on it."

She smiled, clearly pleased with my response, and went to join Marvel at the sword station.

I stood there for a few seconds, staring after her and collecting my thoughts, then realized that it was definitely time to get down to business.

Unlike Clove, I didn't specialize in one particular weapon. I specialized in many. I spent quality time with spears, swords, and machetes the first day of training. The rest of the training days were spent similarly, also forcing myself to check out the survival stations at the advisement of the trainers. I knew how to make a fire, I had a general knowledge of edible plants and berries, and we would take the Cornucopia anyway. I wasn't worried.

In any free time I had waiting in line for the stations, I took the luxury of checking out the other tributes. There were only a few that stuck out to me. The big tribute from District 11 would probably put up a good fight, but I was confident I could take him. The redheaded girl from 5 was definitely knowledgeable about survival skills, but had no combat skills whatsoever. I could easily take her out when the time came. And then there was District 12. I had written the boy tribute off as laughably bad at everything until he had launched a 100-pound weight across the arena. It seemed his strength might pose a threat, but I knew that I could overtake him once I got hold of him. And then there was the girl. She mostly stuck to the survival stations, not demonstrating any particular talent. But I had a nagging feeling that she was not to be underestimated.

I caught Glimmer glancing at me quite a few times during the training sessions. I marveled at the sensations I experienced when our eyes met. And while it worried me beyond belief to actually be feeling, yes _feeling_ something for another human being, I couldn't bring myself to ignore her. She was just so beautiful. I didn't want to think about the repercussions of my attraction to her. So I didn't.

I did, however, take note of her skills. And lovely Glimmer, unfortunately, fell very short in comparison to Clove. Her chosen weapon, it seemed, was a bow and arrow. But she could barely hit the targets. Her arm had the power, she had the focus, but she lacked the precision. It was quite possible that she had trained on some sort of customized bow back in her district that allowed easier shooting and better aim. So on the third day, when no one was looking, I decided to lend a helping hand.

She was in her shooting stance, ready to fire an arrow. Though I hadn't had as much practice with a bow and arrow, I knew that her arm wasn't quite at the right angle. "Here, try lowering your arm just a bit," I said, coming up behind her and placing my hand on her elbow, guiding it slightly downwards. She nodded and let me position her, then let the arrow go. It missed the heart of the target, but it still hit the chest area, which was a definite improvement.

She turned around and smiled at me. Her smile was so different from Clove's – no sadism, no bloodlust. Just a simple smile, full of joy and satisfaction. She was a Career, but she wasn't vicious – not yet. Girls like Glimmer saved the ferocity for the arena. Leading up to the Games, the audience would see her portrayed as very beautiful, confident, and maybe even simple-minded. But once in the arena, I knew she would turn deadly, just like the rest of us.

"Thanks, Cato," she said softly, probably a bit more seductively than she had intended. Or maybe not.

The signal for the end of the training day sounded and I couldn't help but be a little disappointed as she turned and ran off to join Marvel. Once Glimmer was out of view, Clove walked up to me and smacked me in the arm.

"What?" I asked in annoyance.

"You _know_ what," she replied, smirking at me. "Keep your eyes on the prize, Cato. Don't let a pretty girl distract you."

"What does it matter? We're allying with them. It's not like I have to worry about killing her until the end. Might as well have a little fun," I replied coolly.

Clove smiled a little at this, clearly appreciating the thought of me using Glimmer.

I truly wish my intentions were that simple, that shallow. But I knew it wasn't true. This girl was different. There were plenty of attractive girls in my district. Clove was one of them. In fact, she was probably one of the most attractive ones, if I'm being honest. But nothing about Clove truly thrilled or attracted me.

When it came to Glimmer, everything about her attracted me. It was like she _was _her name – a beautiful, glimmering dream that I wanted so badly to call mine. The more I watched her, the more I wanted her. It's been three days already, and we've talked and flirted and gone through all of the motions. But I wanted more. I _needed _more.

But there was no chance of getting it. When we weren't in training, we were confined to our separate floors. It would be impossible to see her privately, and I knew this. I went to bed early, wondering if she was sleep or awake and if she was thinking of me, too.

With the next day came our private sessions with the Gamemakers. Clove came out of hers smiling, proudly informing me that she had hit every single target square in the heart and that the Gamemakers had even applauded her. I wasn't surprised.

I walked in ready and raring to show off my skills. I threw spears, I brandished swords, I lifted weights, and I wielded machetes. The "oohs" and "aahs" from the Gamemakers inspired me to try a double combat attack with both a sword and machete, which produced more than satisfactory results as both the dummy's limbs clattered to the floor. I took a deep bow before they dismissed me, then went to tell Clove how I had done.

Brutus, Clove, our stylists, and myself settled on the couch that night, awaiting our scores. My heart leapt out of my chest as Glimmer's beautiful face appeared on the screen, with a big white 9 flashing above her name. She had done extremely well. Maybe she had a few tricks up her sleeve that she was keeping secret. Marvel also got a 9.

I leaned forward on the couch, grabbing Clove's hand. My name was announced… and a 10 flashed on the screen. I leapt from the couch and punched my fist into the air, shouting a loud "YES!" soon joined by everyone else. We watched as Clove's name appeared on the screen, and when the 10 appeared I grabbed her in a hug, picking her up and swinging her around. She squirmed in my grasp and told me to let go of her, but I could tell she was just as happy as I was.

The other scores didn't even begin to touch ours until the very end. The big tribute from 11, Thresh, also got a 10. And then, just as I had predicted, the girl from 12, Katniss Everdeen, surprised us with an 11. This girl intrigued me, to be sure, but she wasn't the one I was preoccupied with when I climbed into bed that night.

I lay on top of the velvet bedspread, staring up at the ceiling, thinking of Glimmer. Interviews were tomorrow. They'd put her in a striking dress, probably something tight that shows off her body. She'd talk and be charismatic and wonderful and funny. The audience would be impressed by her confidence and marvel at her beauty.

Yes, I knew all of this. For having just met her, I had pretty much figured out the Glimmer the cameras would see. But I didn't want that girl – I wanted the rest, too. The real Glimmer. I wanted to know her.

I could feel myself losing focus on my kill-all Games strategy, and I knew that Clove was right. I should be keeping my eyes on the prize, and I wasn't. Not on the right prize, anyway.

And so, to punish myself, I thought about nothing but weapons and combat tactics until I fell into a deep sleep.

I dreamt of her all night.

* * *

**End of Part II**


	3. Last One Standing

**Part III: Last One Standing**

* * *

The next day, my stylist dressed me in a handsome suit, which I took a few moments to admire in the mirror. I looked good. I looked polished, assured, and ready to win.

I knew that Glimmer would be going up first as I took my place in line. She must be waiting backstage because I didn't see her anywhere. Then I heard her name called and she walked onto the screen.

It was just as I had predicted: Her stylist had chosen a long, gold dress that clung to her every curve. Her hair flowed in perfect waves down her back and the smile I loved so much somehow came across as even more joyful and confident on camera. I could tell that even the host, Caesar Flickerman, was slightly stunned by her beauty.

She gracefully sat down in the interviewee seat and he began talking to her and asking her all sorts of questions. Her answers were funny and confident and charismatic, just as I knew they would be. She spoke of how ready she was to win and how she was looking forward to the competition ahead. He asked about her weapon of choice and she answered with a sweet smile that a lady never reveals her secrets.

I finally managed to tear my gaze from the screen when her interview ended. I heard her wish Marvel good luck, and then she appeared from behind the black wall attached to the stage. We immediately locked eyes and she cast me that smile again.

I smiled back at her, wondering if everyone else in the room could hear my heart beating. "Good luck," she whispered, also smiling at Clove as she walked past.

I liked that Clove didn't seem threatened by Glimmer. She merely smiled and said "Thanks," as she took her place at the front of line, waiting to be called. I guess Clove wasn't intimidated by anyone, really. She'd been taught the same things I had. That emotions only make you weak.

Her name was called and she left. I had to admit, Clove's interview was fun to watch. She was straightforward, intense, and a little sadistic in her responses. Caesar's eyebrows flew up at least ten times and I couldn't help but laugh a little. I was glad Clove was my partner. I just hoped that when the time came, I wouldn't have to be responsible for killing her.

Soon her interview was done and it was my turn. Clove gave me a reassuring smile as I stepped up to the stage. I smiled back at her. This should be fun.

I heard Caesar announce my name. "And now, ladies and gentleman, from District 2, Cato!"

I came out with a big smile on my face, waving to the crowd as I walked across the stage to take my seat. Caesar shook my hand firmly and after seating himself, immediately began with the questions.

"So, Cato. How are you feeling about the Games?" he began simply.

"I'm ready to go," I replied, flashing a smile.

"You look ready," Caesar commented good-naturedly. I flexed, earning a few catcalls from the audience.

"Now tell me, Cato," Caesar continued, "What was it like saying goodbye to your family?"

If only you knew.

"I'll miss my brothers a lot. But I plan on coming back home, so there wasn't much of a goodbye to be said."

The audience cheered at my confidence and I grinned at their reaction. Caesar chuckled.

"Of course, of course. And did you get any words of encouragement?"

The audience fell silent, as if anticipating that I would be at a loss of what to say. Words of encouragement? Well, I suppose my father's words were as good as any.

"Well, Caesar, my father told me to make him proud. And I plan to."

"Excellent. Now, I have one final question – Any special girl in your life? A handsome warrior like you has got to have girls practically falling at your feet."

I smiled, trying to craft the perfect answer to his question. And in a few seconds, I knew that I had a response that would make the audience go wild.

"Well to be honest, Caesar, I met this girl recently. And I have to say that I've never felt a stronger connection to anyone. It was magic the second our eyes met."

Caesar's eyebrows were up high on his forehead and a touched smile was on his face. "How romantic! Can we know who she is?"

The Capitol audience members started screeching, but I waved away their cheers dismissively.

"Sorry… A gentleman never tells."

Caesar laughed and the audience chuckled along with him, cheering for me as I stood up and took a bow. I strolled off the stage feeling light as a feather.

"Nice touch," Clove commented when I rejoined her. I tried to read her expression, to see if she was at all upset about what I'd said, but if she was it didn't show.

"Sponsors devour all that love crap. If they think I'm romantic _and_ strong, I'll appeal to a lot more people," I reasoned, rather pleased with my logic.

Clove looked over and saw Glimmer heading towards us. "Well, there's your girl. I'll see you for dinner." And with that, she walked into the elevator and disappeared from sight.

I pretended not to notice her until she was right in front of me. "Touching speech," she commented softly, her eye makeup sparkling. I dragged my eyes up her body quite deliberately, checking out her figure in the gold dress up-close.

"So… you liked it?" I asked after my inspection, stepping a little closer. Here was my chance.

I could see a small glint of surprise in her eyes but she kept her cool. "Yeah, it was pretty romantic. I wanted to know who she was."

"That's funny, because I think you know her," I replied, grinning as I stepped even closer. Her cheeks turned pale pink and I reached up a hand to brush a curl from her face.

"Hey, Glim, you coming?" Glimmer whipped around to see Marvel standing by the elevator, an amused expression on his face.

"Y-Yeah, hold on," she called, turning back to face me.

After a few moments of quick thinking, she grabbed my hand and shook it, trying to make it look as if we were striking some sort of Career deal. And with her hand still holding mine, she leaned in and whispered, "Meet me back down here at ten."

And then she was skipping off to Marvel, who, after casting me a very pointed glance, wrapped his arm around her shoulders and escorted her to the elevator.

Interesting.

I waited for them to disappear before taking the elevator up to my floor. Clove was sitting on the neon orange couch in front of the T.V., watching the rest of the interviews. Brutus and the stylists must still be downstairs. I sat down beside her and she turned to look at me.

"So it went well?" she asked. I definitely had a ridiculous grin on my face, but I didn't really care. I knew that Clove didn't judge me for it.

"We're meeting later tonight," I replied, leaning back on the couch. She nodded and looked back at the television.

"You ready for tomorrow?" she asked emotionlessly.

"Yeah. Why?"

Clove sighed, pursing her lips and staring at the floor. It was weird to see her do something that made her look vulnerable. She was _always_ confident. Even at school, she was known as "the Killer." And I had to admit that seeing Clove the Killer struggling to meet my gaze was making me nervous.

"Clove, what is it?" I asked, trying not to lose my temper at her silence. I didn't like this. Clove had never been one of those girls you had to figure out. She was simple, easy. An open book.

"We agreed to be allies until the end, right?" she finally asked, her expression unreadable.

"Yes."

"So what if she makes it to the end, too? You going to be able to kill her?"

"Clove, come on. You know me."

"Yeah, I do. And I think you're going to hesitate."

My temper flared at her comment. What did she think I was, an idiot?

"That's bullshit, Clove! I'll kill anyone that gets in my way, and you know that! It's my job! It's my job to bring honor to my district! It's my job to kill until I'm the LAST ONE STANDING!"

I didn't realize I had jumped up from the couch until she stood and touched my arm. My hands were shaking and I was sure my last sentence had been heard at least three floors above.

"Okay, okay. I believe you," she said softly. Her tone wasn't gentle, but it was the best she could do. I nodded and sat back down, humiliated at my outburst.

"Look, I understand parental pressure. Trust me. I just don't want to see you get taken down because of her," Clove started, glancing at the coffee table to avoid my gaze.

I nodded slowly. Her words made sense.

"Besides, if anyone's going to kill you, it's going to be me."

And there she was again. Clove the Killer. She turned to me and smiled that freaky grin of hers, and I knew that even though it was meant to be a joke she was being completely serious. She'd kill me in a heartbeat.

But no matter how frightening she might be to someone else, she wasn't all that scary to me. I enjoyed her company, because she understood what it was like in our district. She knew all too well.

"We'll see about that, Killer," I fired back good-naturedly. She smiled devilishly and I laughed.

We watched the rest of the interviews in silence after that. I shouldn't have been surprised that the damn District 12's were stirring the pot again. Seems as if the guy has a thing for the girl from his district, and felt the need to announce it. What an idiot. You didn't see me confessing my 'crush' (what is he, ten?) on Glimmer on national television.

But I will say it was a little comforting to know that someone was in the same boat as me. Liking someone in the Games never ended well, obviously. Either he was going to die or she was. But no matter what, I knew that I would easily outlast Glimmer. She might have looks to kill, but those won't help her once I have a sword in my hand.

Killing Glimmer. _Actually _killing her. The thought left a funny taste in my mouth. Suddenly I hoped that I wouldn't have to do it. Things would be easier that way, if someone else took down Glimmer. Then I wouldn't have to live with it.

And Clove… I hadn't even thought of what would happen if it fell on me to kill Clove and I returned to District 2 as the victor. Imagining facing her family… No. I didn't want to kill one of my own. I just had to pray someone else beats me to it. Maybe she's even hoping the same thing.

"You look troubled," Clove commented suddenly, her eyes still glued on the television screen. She was starting to get on my nerves.

"Just thinking about tomorrow. Shouldn't those thoughts be a bit troubling?"

Clove turned and looked at me pointedly. "Not for Careers."

We sat in silence for a few more moments, staring at each other. She was searching my eyes for something, but whatever it was she didn't find it.

"I'm going to go to bed. I want to be well-rested for tomorrow."

I leaned back against the couch and closed my eyes, letting out a breath I hadn't known I was holding.

And then I felt her touch. My eyes snapped open. I inclined my head slightly and saw that she had placed her hand on my shoulder and was squeezing it softly. Her grip wasn't threatening or even vice-like. It wasn't the grip of Clove the Killer.

I tried to remember the last time someone had touched me so gently, and nothing came to mind. This was a first, and I bet she knew it.

Before I could turn around to look at her, she abruptly let go and left the room.

* * *

**End of Part III**


	4. The Missing Knife

**Part IV: The Missing Knife**

* * *

I sat there for a few moments, trying to analyze what had just happened. That simple gesture was loaded with meaning. She had touched my shoulder, almost as if she… cared about me. And this worried me more than anything. Why would she show that side of herself to me? Did she really trust me, or was she trying to mess with my head?

I must have sat and pondered Clove's actions for more time than I realized, because when I looked at the gold clock on the wall it was already 10:02. I was late to my meeting with Glimmer.

I jumped from the couch and paused to check myself in the mirror. I took a moment to run my fingers through my hair. I didn't really understand why, but I had learned from experience that girls would fall all over themselves when my hair was messy. I guess there was something appealing about guys looking like they had just rolled out of bed.

The elevator opened before I pressed the button. Brutus' expressionless face greeted me as he stepped through the doors.

"Where do you think you're going, boy?" he demanded gruffly.

"I just wanted to take a walk," I answered casually.

"You're not allowed to leave your floor," Brutus answered, but a smile was creeping onto his face. He knew where I was going. He might have even caught sight of her waiting for me downstairs.

"I won't be gone long. I promise."

Brutus folded his arms and looked at me for a few moments. "All right. If you're not back by 11:00, I'm coming to get you."

I grinned and nodded before slipping into the elevator. One floor later, I was stepping outside into the dark lobby. I peered through the dimness, looking for her.

"I thought you'd forgotten about me."

I smiled and glanced around, catching a glimpse of her golden hair across the room. "You should give my memory more credit," I replied casually, approaching the corner I had seen her disappear behind. Hearing me approach, she emerged from her hiding spot.

My breath caught in my throat and I stopped dead in my tracks. Her eyes glinted as I took in what she was wearing. She had kept the gold heels she wore for her interview, but she was wearing much less than she had been while on camera. A pink silk nightgown clung to her perfect body, the black lingerie underneath it all too apparent. A satin robe hung loosely on her shoulders, and her hair cascaded down her back in magnificent curls.

A feeling stirred inside of me as I looked at her. It was delicious and thrilling, but utterly simple. It was lust. I lusted for Glimmer.

It was true. I was _feeling_ something. I was feeling something towards another human being. I wasn't empty anymore. And this was something that my father would certainly not approve of.

But I didn't care.

"All this for me?" I asked, my voice husky with desire as I stroked the soft material of her gown. She pursed her glossed lips, trying not to smile.

"I don't know what you mean. This is what I always sleep in," she answered flirtatiously, her robe slipping down her shoulder as she reached up to touch my hair.

"I like what you've done with your hair," she murmured. I closed my eyes at her touch. Her hands were so soft, and she smelled like strawberries.

Her body was against mine now, and I opened my eyes to see her gazing at me. The heels she wore made her the perfect height. Not taller than me, but right in kissing range.

I pushed her hair back and placed my hand on her cheek. She nuzzled her face against my skin and smiled dreamily at me. She was pulling out all the stops. I had to admit, she was pretty good at this game.

But I was better.

I placed my hand on the small of her back and grabbed her lovely manicured hand. Her perfectly arched eyebrows furrowed in confusion as I started swaying back and forth with her.

"What are you doing?" she asked. I grabbed her free hand and placed it on my shoulder.

"I'm dancing with you. What does it look like I'm doing?"

Her eyes were shining, pleasantly surprised at my romantic gesture. Perfect.

"There's no music," she pointed out. I smiled in amusement and dipped her, looking deep into her sapphire eyes.

"We don't need it," I whispered, slowly lifting her back up to me. Her eyes were sparkling with desire as I dropped her hand and slowly lifted her gown to caress her thigh.

"Come here," she murmured, placing her hands on the sides of my face and trying to pull me in for a kiss. It seemed Glimmer wasn't a very patient girl. I liked that.

I leaned down and softly kissed her lips, pressing one hand into the back of her thigh and burying another in her long mane of hair. She moaned softly and shrugged off her robe, pressing her body against mine as she deepened the kiss. Her every contour fit me perfectly.

I had kissed plenty of girls, but it had never felt this way. It had never felt this exciting, this thrilling, or this… real. Glimmer wanted me. She wanted me just as much as I wanted her. With the other girls, I'd been bored within ten seconds. But she was experienced, and determined to keep me enthralled.

She ripped off my shirt with surprising strength and threw it to the floor before finding my lips again. Her hands traveled my body, gently caressing my arms and my chest. The kiss was growing in intensity until she abruptly broke away. I opened my eyes, about to ask what was wrong, until I realized she was staring at something on my chest. I followed her gaze to see her hand resting on the ugly pink scar that ran the length of my right shoulder area.

"What happened?" she asked, looking up at me with sad eyes. This was a new turn of events. Girls usually admired my scar.

"It happened when I was younger. I was practicing sword fighting with my father and I was too late defending myself from one of his blows. He told me it was a good lesson for me. Left me bleeding outside until my younger brother found me and called for help."

My tone was very casual; I had told this story many times before. But this seemed to somehow deepen Glimmer's sadness. She looked at me for a few moments before leaning in and placing a gentle kiss on the scar. Another followed the first as she covered the length of raised skin. When she reached the end, she placed one final kiss on top of my shoulder before inclining her head to look at me.

I was left breathless at her tender gesture.

"Why did you do that?" I asked, my voice shaking. I didn't feel in control anymore. I didn't feel confident. I was putty in her hands.

"My father used to beat me," she whispered, tracing my scar absentmindedly, "When I wasn't doing well enough in training, he'd beat me until I improved. It was awful, but I suppose I should thank him for it, right?"

"No, you shouldn't," I said angrily, tipping her chin up to look at me. Her eyes were filling with tears and she was trying hard not to show it.

"I'm a good fighter. People underestimate me because of the way I look," she whispered tearfully.

Guilt crawled in my stomach. I had judged her as a lesser fighter because of her beauty. I was one of those people.

"Then you have to show them. Show them in the arena." I couldn't stand seeing her like this. I couldn't stand seeing joyful, lovely Glimmer with tears running down her face.

What had started out as the beginning of a lustful one-night stand had somehow turned into an unbelievably personal moment between the two of us. Glimmer understood. She understood what it was like to have a cold and abusive father. She understood the weight of such a father's expectations. She was like me.

"That's why I volunteered. I wanted to show him. I wanted to show him that I was valuable. That I could get sponsors. That I could win. Even Marvel doesn't take me seriously. He just parades me around like a trophy. He thinks I'm madly in love with him."

"So, are you? Do I have competition?" I asked jokingly, wrapping my arms around her tiny waist.

She laughed and wiped the tears from her eyes. "Definitely not. He's nothing like you."

I grinned, gently tracing her collarbone with my fingers. "And what am I like?"

She looked closely at me for a few extended moments before responding. "Strong. Determined. Confident. Sexy. And… a little sad. Like you crave something you can't have."

I leaned in to kiss her before she could see the look of utter surprise on my face. How did she know? How could she tell that just from looking at me? Did it show in my face? Did everyone know?

She seemed to sense my panic because she pulled away. "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me. But tell me… What is it you want so badly?"

A normal life.

To be the 74th Annual Hunger Games victor.

My father's approval.

You.

"What I want, right now, is to take you to my bed and hold you until the sun comes up," I whispered, turning her around to kiss her neck. She giggled softly.

"As wonderful as that sounds, I'm sure my mentor wouldn't be as fond of that idea," she replied, sighing as I continued to kiss her lovely neck.

Mentor. I glanced around until I found a clock. 10:55. Damn.

"Speaking of mentors, I have to be back in five minutes or mine will come looking for me." I sighed in frustration into her hair.

Glimmer turned around abruptly. "Five minutes? Well, I guess I'll have to give you something to remember then, won't I?" I watched, entranced, as she stepped back and slipped the nightgown off. It fell into a silky puddle on the floor, and I feared I might join it as I took her in.

Her skin glowed in the darkness as she walked towards me, making her appear to be some sort of celestial being I was simply imagining. Her hair was as gold as the sun itself, and her eyes sparkled like two impeccable sapphire gems. She was perfect. I blinked a few times, just to assure myself that what I was seeing was real.

Maybe this was what living was like. This feeling.

She finally reached me and I gathered her up in my arms, pressing my lips to hers urgently. I needed to memorize the taste of her. I needed to remember this moment, this feeling, and engrave it into my mind forever. She seemed to want the same.

After all, in a few days, one of us would certainly be dead.

I forced myself to pull away from her when I knew that the hour was almost upon us. I didn't want anyone else seeing Glimmer this exposed, especially Brutus. She was mine.

Mine. I tested the word a few times. No, she wasn't mine. One night didn't make her mine.

"I have to go," I whispered, stroking her cheek. She clasped my hand and gazed up at me with misty eyes.

"I wish you could stay," she murmured, turning her head to gently kiss my palm.

I smiled at her. "Me too."

She bent down to retrieve her robe, and I watched as she slipped it back on and ran a hand through her golden hair.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then," she whispered, holding my eyes for a moment before walking away and disappearing around the corner.

I wondered, only briefly, if Marvel was still awake. Had he seen her sneak out? Would he try to convince her to let him into her bed? Would he play the friend card, the partner card, the "I just don't want to be alone tonight" card?

I didn't even know Marvel and already I wanted to kill him. But I supposed that was a good mindset to have on the night before the Games.

I longed to follow her and make sure that it was me in her bed, not Marvel. But not to do anything. Though I was sure Glimmer would be a fantastic bed partner, I didn't want that from her. Just to sleep next to her would be enough. To sleep, with the comfort and warmth of another human being.

Glancing at the clock, I realized I was almost out of time. It was 10:59. I ran to the elevator and made it up back to my floor just as Brutus was heading out of his room.

"I'm back, as promised," I grunted, ignoring his amused expression as I made a beeline for my room.

"Hope you had some fun," he called back. I heard the door shut behind him and I smiled. Yeah, I had some fun, old man.

"Where have you been?" Clove's tone wasn't accusing, just curious. I turned around to see her still fully clothed, leaning against the doorframe to her room.

"I thought you were going to bed," I answered easily, not really wanting to tell her exactly where I was. I was sure she could figure it out.

"Like I could sleep. I'm already ready to decapitate someone, and the Games are still hours away."

I couldn't help laughing. I loved her sadism. It inspired me. After all, there was no way I couldn't be ready and raring to spill some blood with a girl like Clove on my side.

"They have all the footage of the old Games on the TV's – Come into my room."

She looked like she was about to hesitate before I added, "We can watch your favorite."

"How do you know what my favorite year is?" she asked, trying unsuccessfully to hide her smile.

"Please. 37th Annual Hunger Games. The mountain range arena. Year of Tara the Terrible."

"Why would that year be my favorite?" Clove asked innocently.

I laughed again. "You know, it might have something to do with the fact that Tara became the victor by singlehandedly taking down her opponents with a pocket knife and then carving their hearts from their chests," I mimicked the motion in the air before continuing, "Oh, and let's not forget the fact that she _kept them all_ after the Games were over, and now displays them in jars on her mantelpiece in Victor's Village."

She grinned maniacally and nodded. "All right, so that's definitely my favorite year. We gonna watch it or what?"

I opened my door and gestured for her to come inside.

We stayed up until two and got through three Games (all won by District 2, of course). After deciding the pillows were much too fluffy for her taste, Clove had tried to lie on my stomach and use me as a pillow, but then complained my abs were too hard which lead to us laughing ridiculously about the statement for at least ten minutes.

She did, however, manage to find a comfy spot against my side, and I had thrown my arm around her to prevent it from falling asleep. This is the position in which I woke, except she was a lot closer to me than she had been before.

In fact, any normal person would have called what Clove was doing cuddling. But District 2's aren't exactly normal, so I just dismissed it as the result of her being cold in the middle of the night and seeking warmth.

She was still fast asleep, so I took a moment to look at her in this rare state.

Her lips were slightly parted and her eyebrows were relaxed, not harshly drawn together as they usually were. But the most noticeable difference was her hand. It sat limply on my chest, her fingers resting innocently on the fabric of my shirt and her knuckles caved in. It wasn't tensed, nor was it curled around an invisible knife. It was a simple, human hand that told no stories of the blood it was capable of shedding or the wounds it was trained to inflict.

And then I realized something. It was something incredibly important, but the importance was lost on me in the moment.

Clove wasn't sleeping with her knife. Back in my days at the Academy, I had heard it whispered through the halls that she always slept with a knife, and she had accidentally stabbed her mother in the hand when she came to check on her in the middle of the night. She had even admitted to it when confronted with the rumor.

But she wasn't sleeping with her knife now. Even though we were in a swanky hotel suite, I knew she wouldn't feel truly comfortable without her knife in her hand. So why hadn't she brought her knife into my room? Maybe she forgot about it. Or maybe she figured she'd be going back to her room.

I would realize later that it was none of these things.

She was awake now. Upon realizing how closely she was lying against me, she bolted up as if I was suddenly on fire.

"What time is it?" she demanded. I sat up lazily and checked the digital clock.

"It's seven. We leave here at nine."

Her shoulders relaxed, but not by much. I looked down and sure enough, one of her hands was clenched, as if around a knife. She was looking everywhere but me. This was one of those moments that made me extremely anxious. Clove's eyes gave everything away, which usually wasn't a big deal because they were full of a thirst for blood and nothing more. But this time they were full of something else, and whatever it was, she was determined to hide it from me.

"Clove, you okay?" I asked hesitantly.

She nodded, pursing her lips. "Yeah. I'm going to shower."

And without looking at me, she got off the bed and raced out the door.

* * *

**End of Part IV**


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